There was never really any point to it, you know. Even if I ran, say, 18:56 for my 5K time, even then... I wasn't aiming to become a runner again, and there's no award for being good but not great, and there was no way, nooo waaay that I could run that fast anyway. So it's a story of: no matter how hard you try, no matter how much effort you put in, you will not be able to produce a worthwhile result. So why even try at all?
And that was one interpretation of it. I couldn't overlook that, but I could always focus on an alternate view. You could see anything and everything as meaningless, always asking why. Why would you do something like that? Why would you care about something like that? Surely there's no point to it. You could always look at things from that perspective. But I didn't run to tell a story of how pointless it all was. This time, this time it will be a story of overcoming the past, I said. I'll show the world that you are not bound by your weaknesses! And with that, I set off on another foolhardy journey...
I figured that it would be best if I did training that was easier on my legs, so I started jogging in place. I didn't want to be spinning around on the ground in pain because of leg cramps again, and I thought that just by being on my feet more and doing lighter training, my muscles would hold up better. Of course I made it tough still, stepping in time to songs with 320 or even 360 bpm.
I thought about the time I should aim for. Wouldn't it be nice to run a 21:xx? I asked myself. Well, yeah, but I don't think you could even run a 7 minute mile for 1 mile, so... - But you've got to go for it, right? I mean if I can't hold that pace I'll slow down. - Doesn't it always happen this way? You can't run a 21:xx, and if you go out that fast you'll be in pain the whole way in. - All right all right, I'll see how I feel but I'll make sure to finish in under 26 minutes at worst.
How do I explain what happened that race..? All I can say is that it was a combination of factors. The cold air. The hard roads. The people. The fact that I hadn't run seriously in years. The fact that jogging in place was completely different than running out in the cold air on hard roads with a bunch of people in front of you, and that a week of jogging in place could never make up for years of little to no running (who would've ever guessed?). I never had a chance. When you're struggling for breath and feeling the pain in your legs within the first 2 minutes, you know you're in bad shape. I stopped and walked momentarily, then jogged a bit, and then stopped to walk again. And then I passed the first mile marker. My stopwatch was over 10 minutes. It'd be a miracle if I could even finish in 28:xx now.
The voice in my head yelled. You can't let it end like this. Is this the strength of a former runner? This is pathetic! Now run. Run!!! Just a little bit. Just to the next corner. It's a downhill so just run downhill. Come on!!! But no matter what it said, I couldn't do it. There are some limitations that can't be overcome. There are some limitations that can't be overcome. I accepted it. I gave in to it. When you can't do it, you can't do it. It doesn't matter how much you want it. It doesn't matter if you believe you can. When you can't do it, you can't do it. And I couldn't do it. I walked past the 2 mile marker without bothering to check my time.
No, I can't let it end like this! No, I won't give up yet!!! I started going. Pushing harder, running faster. I needed something, something to go for... and I saw one person running faster than everyone else. You! I won't let you get away! I pushed and caught them, following them step for step. I was set on it. I was going to stay with them the entire last mile. I was going to... How was I going to do that? What a foolish thought. My rival for the minute ran on and disappeared into the crowd as I slowed to a walk again. I couldn't do it. Has this shown you something? Do you now understand? You can't overcome everything. You can't get over all of your limitations. I felt all of the frustration and the pain. I don't know why I felt pain though, because it's not like I actually ran much. I came up to the final stretch knowing that it didn't matter. It wasn't cool to sprint the last quarter mile when you half-walked everything else. And I couldn't! I couldn't even sprint! It was even downhill and I couldn't find it in me. Any of the people I used to run cross country with would have seen me and said, "Hey Daniel, taking it easy today huh?" and I would've said, "No, I'm trying my hardest," seriously. I just wanted it to be over. I finally crossed the 3 mile marker and jogged in the last 200 meters. The clock was past 31 minutes. And a brutal and painful 31 minutes it had been. I felt like collapsing on the ground, and I could barely walk anywhere with my legs being so tired. And I didn't even run a half-decent time.
31 minutes though man. There were adults telling their little kids, "Come on, lets just run a little," as they're all going past me. Most people who even bothered to try would have finished ahead of me. And I couldn't do anything more! Well maybe if it was a matter of life or death, I could have gotten 30 minutes or 29 minutes. Maybe. And that's not much better anyway. I could see that bad ending flashing before my eyes: being forced to face reality, to give in to the fact that I was no longer able to run as I could before. I would walk away in failure, and never again chase after any goals in running, as they were all but unreachable now. Instead of proving that it was possible to overcome your weaknesses, I was providing more support to the idea that you could not. By now it had to be clear: I wasn't born to be a runner. Perhaps I had been a fool to ever try...
Still, that was just one way of looking at it. And as always, I knew how to look at it from a different perspective.
I was only a fool for believing that I could run well without having done any serious training for a long time. I couldn't, and I accept that. But it really emphasized the fact that running didn't come naturally to me. I started out as a terrible runner, and when I didn't keep up with it, I went back to being terrible again. But there was a time, there was a time, when I ran 19:10. Someone like me. Someone who can't even break 30 minutes now. I say I can't do it, and I said I couldn't do it. I can't, and I couldn't, but those were only meant to be true at the time that I said them. Because I still believe you can overcome your weaknesses. I did when I ran a 22 minute, a 21 minute, and even down to a 19:10 5K. When I first started running cross country, I couldn't break 30 minutes for a 5K, and now, many years after quitting running, I can't break 30 minutes for a 5K again. But when I was practicing and working at it, I could break 20 minutes. Yes, the weakness is there. My legs always tire out and my stamina won't carry me through anymore. Yes, I can't do it today. But why not "tomorrow"? I understand that it's not enough just to want to succeed, but if I put in the effort, then why not? Everyone has their weaknesses and their flaws and their shortcomings. Ones that exist in the present. But if you work to improve, then who knows? Your weaknesses don't have to be permanent. They don't have to be weaknesses in the future.
I laughed at myself as I always did as I walked away from the finish line. It's not the outcome you wanted, is it. - Of course not. Of course it wasn't. It was pathetic. It was painful. It was frustrating. You can't just walk away like that, can you. - Probably not. No, probably not. It was too pathetic. It was too painful. It was too frustrating.
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